


the tranfser, the thug, & the artist

by kibouin



Series: thick as thieves [1]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: (i think), (split into three parts), Akira is not the One True Hero, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Character Death, Dark Undertones, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, One Shot, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-18 07:16:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibouin/pseuds/kibouin
Summary: Kurusu Akira's actions one night changes his life in ways he could never have imagined. As he learns how to control his unknown power, he stumbles across two potentials that pique his interest, in more ways than one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Those pairing tags are so messy, but I know some people don't know Pego-kun has a name, so... gotta make sure they find him~

His introduction was brief. Kurusu Akira; that was all these faceless classmates needed to know. The only seat available was next to the  _obvious_  delinquent, who stood out from the rest of his peers. They were all society’s rejects, though.

The blond’s eyes grew sharper—his glare more murderous—the closer he got to the desk, but Akira was immune to stares like his. He’d been receiving them for as long as he could remember, and the ones that came from his own household were worse.

Akira pulled out the chair to take a seat, only to have it kicked away.

“Sakamoto!”

Sakamoto directed his glare at the teacher in the front of the room, giving Akira time to collect his chair. It was kicked away again once he had it back behind his desk, but this time Sakamoto grinned cheekily at him, wordlessly egging him on to do something.

Akira didn’t believe the third time was the charm. He spun his desk sideways and slammed it against Sakamoto’s, pushing until he effectively trapped the blond against the wall. A low murmur of surprise and shock rolled through the classroom. “I don’t have time to play games, _thug_. We’re all here because society rejected us. No idea what you did, but…” Akira grinned slowly, leaning forward so he could whisper, “I killed a man.”

“Get the hell away from me, you freak!” Sakamoto hissed, scrambling to free himself from the desks.

Akira placed a hand to the back of his chair, holding it and the blond in place. “Momentarily. I just want to clear the air between us since we’ll be sitting next to each other for the next year. I have no intention of harming you, and you will hold no ill will towards me. Got it? Now then, I’m going to put my desk and chair back, and you’ll sit here quietly.”

Akira released Sakamoto’s chair, using both hands to carefully move his desk back to his original spot. He smiled graciously at the terrified student that pushed his chair closer to him and took it, settling it behind the desk. His eyes cut over to Sakamoto and the blond visibly jumped. With a soft hum of approval, Akira took his seat.

Sakamoto snatched up his bag and stormed across the back of the classroom, slamming the sliding door after walking out. Akira chuckled to himself. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad here after all. 

* * *

Sakamoto was missing for the remainder of the week.

At the start of the new week, Akira found himself laughing out loud when he stepped into the classroom. The scowling blond had dragged his desk to the back of the room, out of Akira’s range. He crossed the room to his desk, hanging his school case from the provided hook, and straddled the chair backwards so he could give the scowling teen his full attention. “Did I scare you, thug?”

“Stop calling me that, ya freak! why the hell aren’t you in jail?!”

“My dear parents are government officials and would rather the family name stay untarnished.”

Brown eyes widened. “…you literally got away with murder?” he squawked.

Akira chuckled softly, “I did. It was ruled as self-defense. There was even a witness.” The bell rang then and Akira pouted at having their heart-to-heart cut short.

Sakamoto clutched the edge of his desk, forcing himself to remain seated. He couldn’t walk out again. If he missed too many days, he wouldn’t even be considered for graduation. It mattered because he had someone that needed his support. He promised he’d take all the steps necessary to become someone capable of representing the up and coming artist.

Sakamoto Ryuji was a juvenile offender. He’d beaten his dad after the sad sack of bones laid a hand on his mom, then turned around and sent his P.E. teacher to the hospital. That fight caused both parties casualties, but Ryuji’s care was mediocre at best. Lucky for him, his mom took him to a back-alley doctor that properly set his leg. Running was out of the question now, which meant kissing his track scholarship goodbye.

Ryuji sighed deeply and decided the world outside of this last-ditch dump was more interesting. He disliked the transfer student even more now for unknowingly dredging up the past he’d laid behind him. Ryuji could always ask Mishima for his notes to copy. His classmate was more than willing to offer his assistance. 

* * *

On his third week at the new school, Akira decided he needed a little more excitement in his life. It was time to up the stakes in his cat and mouse game. His prey was too fun to ignore.

Ryuji was roused from his lunchtime nap by the sound of a dragging chair. He lifted his head, ready to tell off the asshole, but almost jumped out of his seat after finding the transfer student smiling down at him.

“Kitagawa Yusuke.”

Ryuji’s body moved on autopilot. The chair clattered noisily to the floor after he shot out of it, fingers twisted up in the material of Akira’s shirt. He slammed the brunet against the chalkboard at the back of the classroom, their faces mere meters apart as he growled, “Don’t mess with me.”

Akira smiled, chuckling darkly. “I’ve been messing with you ever since I walked into this classroom. You’re such a pretty little toy. Not even worthy enough to be a  _pawn_.”

Ryuji didn’t give a shit what the bastard said about him–he’d heard it all before. “Leave Yusuke alone. It’s me you want, isn’t it?”

Akira’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Maybe I want you both.”

Ryuji snarled, dragging him forward only to slam him back against the wall. The class was huddled on one side of the room now, the teacher already gone to collect the principal, or maybe a police officer.

“My sweet Sakamoto.” Elegant fingers ghosted down the side of his face and Ryuji shuddered, repulsed, under the gentle touch. “I can help you get what you want. A future. For you, and your beloved.”

Ryuji blinked, his grip loosening in that moment. Akira bared his teeth in a feral grin, swapping their positions in the blink of an eye. Ryuji’s front was pinned to the wall, his left arm twisted behind his back, just shy of being painful. The other was trapped against the chalkboard by Akira’s right hand. “But you, and your beloved, will belong to me. Do you accept?”

“Hell, no,” Ryuji spat, his chest rising and falling sharply, pushing him back against the transfer student more than he’d liked.

“Hmm.” Akira released the blond, springing back when Ryuji wildly swung out. He skipped backwards with a wide smile, arms spread wide in a mocking challenge gesture.

Ryuji settled for punching the chalkboard to vent his anger rather than the smug face presented to him. He counted in his head, each digit accompanied by a sharp breath, until he could slowly inhale and exhale. Ryuji dropped his arm to his side just as the classroom door flew open and two officers burst in. Akira was already seated, along with everyone else, looking innocent as ever. Ryuji picked up his fallen chair and glared at the men.

“Your teacher said there was a fight,” the broader of the two uniformed men stated. His hardened gaze swept around the classroom before landing on Ryuji with a sneer. “Why are you out of your seat?”

“A bee came in the window—scared the piss outta me.” Sakamoto bit back a grin as a few students snickered at his response. “I wasn’t gonna let it sting me. Chased it back out, and that’s when you showed up.”

The officers surveyed the room. No one looked worse for wear other than Sakamoto, but his story would explain his flushed appearance. He knew most of these students wouldn’t lie for a delinquent like him, so maybe the fault was the teacher’s this time around. With a sigh, the man elbowed his partner out of the room, indicating that the teacher at the opposite door do the same.

Ryuji sank into his seat with a muffled curse, burying his head in his hands. He’d been swayed by Kurusu’s sugar-coated words, and they haunted him even now. Could there  _be_  a future for him and Yusuke? No one would question their relationship, considering their background. The art society already dubbed Yusuke as eccentric because of his style; of course, he’d take a male lover. But to be led around by the nose by someone just as bad as the adults that locked them both away…

Ryuji lifted his head, a silent snarl curling his lips after finding the undesired subject of his thoughts smiling at him. 

**xxx**

Kitagawa Yusuke loved a brooding Ryuji. He became a posable subject with no complaints. The young artist sat Ryuji down and Ryuji slouched forward, elbow braced on his knee as he kept his head elevated with his hand. The Thinker. Yusuke could work with that. He flitted around the room and decided the best place for him was on the floor in front of the blond. He crossed his legs and balanced his sketchbook in his lap.

“He’s pissing me off so much,” Ryuji hissed.

Yusuke hummed, studying the creases in the other’s brow. He’d heard the story of this Kurusu Akira enough times to know that Ryuji would talk himself into a slump. He was  _not_  expecting to be included in their arguments, however. His hand paused on the thick parchment, head rising slowly. “Pardon?”

“He knows, about  _us_. Threatened me by mentioning you.” Ryuji reached his slump sooner than expected. He bowed forward, head between his knees, arms bracketing his head. “I don’t care what he does to me, but I can’t let him get to you.”

Yusuke set aside his supplies and rose onto his knees. He covered Ryuji’s hands with his, pressing a light kiss to the sun-gold crown. “Despite my appearances, I am quite capable of taking care of myself. Besides… aren’t you the one that said I'm, and I quote, _effin’ weird_?” Ryuji choked out a laugh. Yusuke smiled, “Why would anyone want anything to do with someone as weird as me?”

“Because they’re not as dumb as I am to see you’re effin’ amazin’.” Ryuji lifted his head, stealing a kiss from the unsuspecting brunet.

Yusuke closed his eyes and sat back onto his calves with a sigh, “You’re a walking contradiction. I’m either weird or amazing. I can’t be both. And you are not dumb. You excel in other areas that aren’t related to the subjects they teach at school.”

“You sure as hell can be both!” Ryuji argued, jumping to his feet. “And was that a roundabout insult?!”

Yusuke opened his eyes to stare up at the blond from his floored position. He knew Ryuji liked to stand tall sometimes, considering he was the shorter one of their pairing. Yusuke bared his neck, a playful smile curling his lips.

Ryuji tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, releasing it with a curse. “You don’t play fair, man. What time is your creepy guardian coming back?”

“Not for another few hours. Here is fine. You might ignite some creative thoughts in me. I’m already overflowing with thoughts of how much I adore you.”

“Hate you, man,” Ryuji growled, yanking Yusuke up high enough for him to lean down and crush their mouths together. Yusuke smiled against the bruising kiss, which only further served to light a fire in Ryuji. 

* * *

Yusuke tucked his purchases into his bag and thanked the bookstore owner with a low bow. Jinbocho was one of his top five places to visit. It housed the amazing book shops Yusuke loved to frequent when he could afford it. He straightened up under the weight of an intense gaze. Yusuke had gotten no physical description of their mysterious foe from Ryuji, but he knew it was Kurusu Akira that stared at him from the opposite side of the bustling street. The head of dark, curly hair tilted right and there was a faint hint of teeth as the teen grinned. Yusuke felt a strange combination of fear and excitement. He tightened his grip on the strap of his bag and began moving in the direction of the station.

“Gorgeous.”

Yusuke shivered at the whispered word and forced his feet to keep moving forward. One in front of the other.

“Have you ever considered a self-portrait?”

Yusuke took a few slow steps before finally stopping to address the stranger. Akira’s smile was brilliant and Yusuke’s nails dug into his palm around the strap of his bags. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I understand what you’re referring to.”

Akira laughed, the sound light, yet dangerous. “Your canvas bag. You’re obviously an artist. Have you thought about doing a self-portrait? Because you’re gorgeous.”

Yusuke bowed his head. “Thank you for the compliment, but I don’t think I’ll make a good subject.”

Akira’s face took on an innocent appearance of confusion. “Someone disagrees. I’ve seen a portrait of you. It doesn’t capture any of your beauty and inner strength, though.”

Yusuke took a step towards the teen, eyes narrowing. “Who would dare…?”

Akira’s smile slowly lost its innocence, his gray eyes cutting through the artist, leaving him with that feeling of terrified excitement. “I can show you if you like,” he hummed

“No.” It was an automatic response, conditioned into him by Ryuji, but Yusuke had also lost interest in his stalker.

Akira’s smile twitched as though he hadn’t expected the refusal. The innocent facade melted away and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Ryuji warned you, huh? Didn’t think he was that smart.”

Yusuke’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that. Ryuji is brilliant. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t know where I’d be right now.”

“Hmm.” Akira tapped his pursed lips. “At my side, not being used by Madarame? You’re obviously the brains in the relationship. Encourage him to give me a chance. Promise you won’t regret it.” With a wink, Akira disappeared into the next wave of browsers and shoppers.

Yusuke left the violence up to the rest of society, but right now, he felt a strong desire to pick up a wooden sword once again. It would mean going back to the school where he was an outcast even amongst other artists, and hiding; biding his time to use their kendo room. Ryuji would have to come with him to be on the lookout, and the blond hated Kosei more than his own school. Yusuke closed his eyes, listening to the bustle of Japan’s citizens with the hopes of calming his fraying nerves.

— _used by Madarame_.

He gritted his teeth and fished his phone from his pocket to place a call.

“ _Wassup, man_?”

“Please meet me at my school.”

Ryuji was silent for a few moments and Yusuke pictured him fighting with his thoughts. “ _Yeah, sure. Only because I love your lanky ass_.”

Talking with Ryuji was a relaxing act in and of itself. “My ass is not lanky.”

“ _Nope. It’s gonna be mine after we graduate, though_!”

“One hour,” Yusuke sighed with a shake of his head.

“ _Yes, dear_.”

He was smiling at the end of their call, but Akira’s words still created more niggling thoughts in the back of his mind. 

**xxx**

Ryuji gave Yusuke a treat  _while_  he practiced his stances and strikes, congratulating him on his amazing control at the end. Truth was, Yusuke couldn’t move after being serviced by Ryuji’s skilled mouth. The blond laughed from the kendo dojo to the showers, all while carrying Yusuke in his arms.

Yusuke protested, worried about his leg, but Ryuji flashed him a wide smile. “Don’t worry so much. That lady did an amazing job. And I get to set off all the metal detectors.” Ryuji set Yusuke down and helped him with removing his  _hakama_  and  _keikogi_  of the kendo uniform. He sneered at the material as he folded it, and Yusuke found himself mesmerized by his hands. Ryuji knew exactly where each pleat needed to be.

The world may see Ryuji as a crude brute, but Yusuke saw more than that. He was skilled and stronger than anyone he knew, but he also had a soft side. Sometimes it was his belly when he ate too much ramen and forgot to work out, but other times it was when he fretted to Yusuke about his mother and all the stress he kept burdening her with. His medical bills, school fees, and she still had to pay for their apartment and everything in it.

Yusuke was under Madarame’s care, but there were times he felt trapped and smothered. The man took his worst paintings and sold them off as his own. He gave his best works to Ryuji for protection. Yusuke had yet to see a single yen of profit. He wasn’t in it for the money, but it would be nice to not have to live off water.

Speaking of… He stepped out of the shower and into Ryuji’s waiting arms and a towel. If he were to do a portrait, it would be of this beautiful boy. Yusuke dreaded the next words coming out of his mouth, but they promised never to keep secrets. “I believe I ran into Kurusu today.”

Ryuji stopped patting down the lean frame and fixed Yusuke with a glare, brows tightly drawn.

“He told me to persuade you to change your mind, and that I belonged at his side.” Yusuke took the towel to complete the job. They couldn’t stay here forever after all.

“You’re not some  _thing_  to be owned,” Ryuji growled, his free hands clenching into tight fists. “Neither of us are. Why is he so stuck on  _us_?! I just met him a month ago. He scares the shit out of me…”

“I as well,” Yusuke sighed, setting his towel onto the bench so he could step into his underwear. “But I feel there is a truth behind his words.” He waited for the explosion, but it never came. After pulling on his pants, Yusuke turned around to find that Ryuji looked troubled.

The blond threw his arms in the air with a frustrated scream and the brunet smiled. There it was. “I feel the same way and I hate it! If he wasn’t so friggin’ creepy…”

“Maybe—” Yusuke pulled on a borrowed top, making a face at the graphic design. “Maybe we should see what he has to say. See if he’s stringing us along. If he is, I’ll report him to the police.”

Ryuji’s shoulders slumped in defeat, a tired grin creeping onto his face. “Why are you with me?”

“Not again,” Yusuke sighed. He collected his belongings, carefully placing his clothes into his bag, and took Ryuji by the hand to lead him out of the club room. “Because it was my choice. I didn’t do it to get back at anyone. I don’t pity you. I’m quite fond of you. Now, be quiet so we can sneak out of here, you bad influence.”

Ryuji snorted, pulling his hand free of Yusuke’s, only to link their fingers together. “I came when called. You were the one that wanted to break into the school.”

“It’s not breaking and entering if you already attend.”

“Spoken like a true criminal.”

Yusuke shut him up with a smile and a kiss. 

* * *

Akira was genuinely surprised when Ryuji approached his desk at the end of the week. The school day was over and the blond was usually amongst the first out of the classroom. He hid his surprise with a taunting smile. “Here to kick my chair with me in it?”

“Shuddap, damn it. Yusuke said we should talk.” Ryuji backed up, freeing his hands from the pockets of his pants when Akira jumped to his feet. If he wanted to pick a fight instead of talk, then so be it.

“With you alone, or all of us together?”

“Together,” Ryuji mumbled, wary of the thinly veiled excitement in the teen’s voice. “Tomorrow, at Jinbocho.”

“Excellent,” Akira laughed breathlessly, his eyes aglow. The guy was clearly trouble, but this was what Yusuke wanted. Akira took a few steps towards him and Ryuji backed away, putting a few more feet of distance between them. “You’ll be standing at my side soon enough,” the brunette chuckled, cheeks flushed a faint pink.

Ryuji felt dirty just staring at him and skirted around the other teen. “10 o'clock. Don’t be late.” He stepped out into the hallway and slammed the door closed behind him. “Fuckin’ pervert.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t meet Yusuke today; the art student would be Madarame’s lapdog at an art event. That meant Ryuji would be spending the day with his mother. He smiled at the thought, realizing that could never be a bad thing. They ended up going shopping and making dinner together. It was a pleasant distraction to keep his thoughts from  _tomorrow_. 

 **xxx**  

Ryuji went to sleep happy and woke up with dread sitting low and heavy in his stomach. He dragged from room to room as he prepared for the day, nibbling at his breakfast and causing his mom to worry. She questioned if he was all right and Ryuji forced a smile as he choked down his eggs. At 9:15, he left his house to meet Yusuke at Shibuya’s Station Square. They headed for the platform whose train would take then to Jinbocho.

Yusuke used his bag to hide the fact that his hand was in Ryuji’s jacket pocket along with Ryuji’s, both trying to squeeze their nervousness away. Yusuke was almost dreading his decision when they stepped off the train, his hand sliding free of Ryuji’s, but he’d picked such a public location for safety reasons. If things got out of hand, they could run and hopefully lose their stalker in the crowds. The couple had been browsing for almost ten minutes when Yusuke felt that piercing gaze, same as last time. He touched Ryuji’s arm as he turned around.

Akira made no attempt to hide and waved at both boys once he had their attention. He raised an eyebrow at them, asking permission to join their side of the street. Yusuke nodded slowly. Akira moved in a casual gait, sidestepping quicker shoppers, until he finally stopped in front of the couple. His smile was almost carefree, but held a mischievous edge. “I’m so glad you decided to give me a chance. I was afraid I’d have to resort to more drastic measures.”

Ryuji stepped protectively in front of the taller teen and Akira grinned. “Do me a favor and check your phones? I don’t have your contact information and I wouldn’t know the first thing about hacking, but if your phone has it, hopefully you’ll believe me… Maybe.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

Ryuji pulled his phone from his pocket, never breaking eye contact—Akira wouldn’t have it any other way—until he had to  _look_  at the device to find any foreign apps. Yusuke murmured something behind him just his eyes spotted the black and red icon that he had no recollection of ever downloading. It looked like it belonged to a game he would be interested in.

“ _Don’t_  touch it,” Akira warned after noticing the way Ryuji’s thumb hovered. He inclined his head to the end of the street. “Let’s take a walk?”

“What is it?” Yusuke asked as they started moving. He stood on Ryuji’s left, farthest from Akira.

“Don’t call the cops on me yet.” Akira rubbed the back of his neck, letting his hand linger. “It’s…” He blew out a sharp breath. “It leads to another world. A… cognitive world.”

Yusuke pressed his hand down sharply on Ryuji’s shoulder and forced the blond to the outside. “A world of thoughts?” he inquired, shifting his gaze from Akira’s profile to the strange app on the phone he still held. “I understand we’ll definitely be at your side because people will label us as crazy, but how does this ensure our freedom?”

“You’re still thinking about society,” Akira sighed. “When you see what you’re capable of in this other world, you won’t even care what society thinks.” Akira’s eyes darkened, his fingers curling into a fist. “Society will be at your mercy.”

Ryuji could taste blood as he bit down on his tongue to keep himself from screaming at the psycho walking with them. Instead, he settled on a harsh whisper, “You’re demented. Why the hell didn’t they lock your ass up?!”

“Why, indeed?” Akira chuckled. “Ryuji. Would you like to pay a visit to your old school? See how well Kamoshida’s doing for himself?”

Yusuke hooked both arms beneath Ryuji’s, holding him back as he snarled and spat obscenities at Akira. Ryuji’s arms were outstretched, hands struggling to get a hold of the brunet. People gave them a wide berth and Yusuke frowned over the blond’s head. “If you have nothing more to say, Kurusu, I believe we’ll be on our way. Sorry for wasting your time.”

“You didn’t. Just seeing you both is enough to get me through a day. I guess I’ll have to show you. It won’t be today, and not here. Ryuji—”

“Sakamoto to you, you disgusting piece of shit!”

Akira smiled, a somber gesture. “Sakamoto. If you ever decide to go back to your old school, I’d say that’s the best time to go ahead and test out that app.” With a hand against his chest, he bowed low at his waist and continued forward.

Yusuke watched him pause a moment at one of the book stalls, only relaxing after he made a purchase. His smile as he thanked the shop owner lacked the emotion he showed them. It was a courtesy smile. He remembered he still held Ryuji hostage when the blond jerked against his arms. “Would you like to go the gym and burn off some of your anger?”

“Hell yes,” Ryuji growled. "And then we can put back on all the calories by eating sushi.”

“No,” Yusuke sighed. As much as he would love to indulge in such a delicacy, it was out of their budget.

“ _Yusuke_.” Ryuji stamped his foot like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum. “I’m too pissed off  _not_  to splurge right now.”

"There is no logic in the words you just uttered. Instead of splurging, you can model for me.” Yusuke whispered the rest of his suggestion into the blond’s ear. 

A wide grin broke out on Ryuji’s face and he pumped a fist in the air. "Sounds like a plan to me! Dude. The first thing we need to do after coming into money is have a _nantaimori¹_. You’ll be the dish, of course.”

“Of course,” Yusuke chuckled. He would do anything to keep Ryuji happy. Besides, it sounded fun. Realizing they were still in public and standing too close to be the norm, Yusuke reluctantly released the other teen.

It didn’t take long to understand the reason why there was distance between them now, and Ryuji’s grin dimmed to a faint smile. “Ne, Yusuke? Let’s just… get ice cream.”

Yusuke hated to see Ryuji hurting, be it physical or emotional pain. Right now, it was a little of both. He couldn’t hold him until they were away from prying eyes.  _You won’t even care what society thinks_. It was a tempting thought, but also impossible. Yusuke curled his fingers around Ryuji’s wrist, frowning as wide brown eyes stared back at him.

“Dude…”

“We don’t care about society, do we?”

“I care about your future. We can’t, not until you make a name for yourself.”

“That could be years from now,” Yusuke argued, his grip tightening. Ryuji grinned and Yusuke, in that moment, hated the sight of it. He knew the next words would be something sappy and reassuring.

“You know I’ll wait as long as it takes, right?  _You’re_  my future.”

“I dislike you and your pure heartedness,” Yusuke whispered. “But I return your sentiments. I wish I could be as free as you are right now. Let me indulge today and hold you this way. If you stay a few steps behind me, it’ll appear as though I’m dragging you along.”

“Okay!” Ryuji cheered. Yusuke shook his head and couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever smiled this much in his life before.

**-**

They ended up on the floor of Yusuke’s work room, sharing a pint of ice cream between them. Ryuji sat between Yusuke’s legs, eating the frozen treat until he received a firm squeeze. He held a spoonful of the treat over his head and hoped Yusuke was quick enough so it didn’t drop in his hair or down the back of his neck.

They finished the container together and Yusuke frowned at the canvas he had propped against Ryuji’s back. He tilted it to and fro, but the results remained the same. “I think I drew melted ice cream.”

Ryuji wiggled free to have a look and ended up laughing himself onto the floor. “You have… you have to give that to the old man! Just… add some kind of flourish!”

Yusuke kicked him out with a kiss.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¹ nantaimori - often referred to as "body sushi", is the Japanese practice of serving sashimi or sushi from the naked body of a man.
> 
> \--  
> I split it into three parts because I don't think my writing is worthy enough of being one of those amazing 12000+ word one-shots that enraptures you so, you can't stop reading. This way, if you get bored, you can run away :3


	2. Chapter 2

Having to see him every day already pissed Ryuji off. Having to see him every day and not be able to smash his fist into that smug face made Ryuji livid. There was no excuse he would accept for having salt rubbed in his wounds the way Kurusu did. The problem was, the app was still on his phone, after he spent a week constantly deleting it.

That app, plus the strong desire to prove the bastard wrong, was what had Ryuji hiding in the alcove beside the school that housed a few vending machines. He was never one for hiding, but he was also not supposed to be anywhere near Shujin; didn’t want the  _great_  Kamoshida to feel his life was being threatened. He glared at passing students from beneath a hood, something dark twisting inside of him. No one cared what his life had become because now he was no longer a hindrance to theirs.

Ryuji heard the volleyball team was the pride and joy of the school from Mishima, the “pawn” Kamoshida decided he no longer needed. He named the boy Ryuji’s accomplice, getting them both transferred. Mishima was happier at the new school, he’d told Ryuji one time as he handed over his notes to be copied. He had been a victim, just like everyone else; now he was free.

Ryuji slumped against the nearest vending machine, eyes now glued to his phone and the mysterious app that almost seemed to be pulsating on the screen. “Damn perverted Kamoshida…” With a frustrated growl, he jabbed his thumb onto it. “Actin’ like the school’s his goddamn castle…” And then the world shifted. Literally.

 **xxx**   

Ryuji fell to his knees, emptying his stomach onto the ground below. He could still feel each blow from those freaky “soldiers”. It felt like his ribs had broken when the armor covered foot landed in his stomach, but as he clutched it now, there was no immediate pain. He would have died, had it not been for that black clad figure destroying everything that touched him and chasing away King Kamoshida.

Ryuji hadn’t heard the footfalls, but a shadow now classed away the sunlight and he feared the worst; Kamoshida had come to finish the job now that he knew he was here. He lifted his head slowly, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, and was met with the emotionless mask of Kurusu Akira.

“Sorry. I got there late.”

Sorry? Got… where? Ryuji’s breath caught in his throat and he lurched forward with another wave of nausea. Akira deftly stepped to the side of the mess and held out a napkin once Ryuji was finished. “He…” the blond panted. “The guy in black… was you. Then, I could’ve died?”

“Yes.”

Angry tears welled up in Ryuji’s eyes. Because of his impulsive nature, he would’ve left Yusuke, and his mother, all alone in this world. “What the hell was that place…? How come I felt everything?” Now that his adrenaline was fading, Ryuji’s chest did indeed hurt on a more internal level.

Akira noticed and pulled his school case from his shoulder. He rummaged around until he produced a bottle, and held it out to Ryuji. He rolled his eyes at the suspicious stare. “It’s not poison. It’s to help heal you.”

“Why the hell are you being so nice?” Ryuji pressed a hand against his knee, the other splayed against the glass front of the vending machine, and tried to force himself to his feet. He made it, but almost fell over at the sudden onslaught of pain tearing through his body. “…if I die, you can have Yusuke all for yourself.”

Akira uncapped the bottle and calmly rose to his feet. He curled his hand around the back of Ryuji’s head, forcing the mouth of the bottle past his lips. Ryuji sputtered, the contents spilling, and choked down what did make it into his mouth. With renewed vigor, he slapped the other’s arm away and slammed him against the opposite vending machine.

Ryuji wasn’t just violence and impulse. He had a brain in his head that he used. Sometimes emotions  _did_  guide most of his actions, but his brain was still in charge. The pain was gone, so it obviously wasn’t a poison. “You didn’t answer me the first time. What the hell was that place?”

A smile crept onto Akira’s face. “The cognitive world.”   
  
At the end of their discussion, Ryuji was no closer to understanding, and his head was practically splitting open. As always, he smiled for his mother to keep her from worrying, downed some painkillers, and crawled into bed after sending Yusuke “luv ya, babe”. 

* * *

Ryuji was uncharacteristically quiet and it worried Yusuke. They walked the Ueno Art Museum as Yusuke was want to do when he needed inspiration. Usually Ryuji made fun of the paintings. Now, he stared off into space, following on Yusuke’s heels out of habit. “Do you want me to kiss you in front of everyone?” Yusuke asked as a test.

Ryuji hummed softly, eyes focused on the abstract art piece decorating the wall in front of them. It took several moments before Yusuke’s words caught up with him and he jumped away from the taller teen, arms raised to ward off any kisses.

Yusuke’s expression was not pleased. “Welcome back. Would you be kind enough to tell me what’s on your mind?”

Ryuji shook his bad leg in a nervous twitch before hanging his head. “Cognitive stuff. It’s real, man. Real and painful.”

The museum was a thing of the past now. Yusuke herded Ryuji through living and marble figures alike, until they were outside with no chance of being overheard. “What happened?” He stressed each word. 

“I was stupid and let that idiot’s words get to me… and went to the school. I used the app. I was literally in another world, Yusuke. I got my ass kicked in another world, Yusuke. My head hurts thinking about it…”

Yusuke squeezed Ryuji’s shoulders gently, looking around at their surroundings. Knowing there was another reality out there made him question their existence in this one.

“Hey.” Ryuji patted Yusuke on the cheek, returning his glare with a weak grin. “If you wanna talk to Kurusu again, I’ll let him know. Just tell me when.”

Madarame’s art exhibition was in a month. If he wanted answers, it would have to be before that. “This weekend. He can come to the house.” Ryuji’s eyes widened, but Yusuke’s next words crushed his argument. “He probably already knows where I live.”

The blond kicked at the ground. “Damn it. You’re probably right. He’s like Sadako or some freaky supernatural shit. Call his name or think about him and he appears.”

Yusuke smiled, “Shall we test this theory?”

Ryuji arched an eyebrow, shoving his hands in the pockets of his brightly colored jacket. “Dunno, man. What’ll you do if he actually shows up?”

“Discuss this cognitive world sooner than later.” He cleared his throat, though the wide smile on his face ruined the seriousness he aimed for. “Kurusu.”

A new voice entered their conversation. “I prefer sooner rather than later.” An annoyingly familiar voice. 

“What did I tell you?! Yusuke!” Ryuji threw his arms in the direction of the shadows cast by the building where the subject of their discussion stood in casual clothing.

Akira waved once he had their full attention and strolled out from the protection of the building and into the afternoon light. He twisted a lock of his curly hair around his finger, watching the boys with mild interest and amusement. “Where shall we go for our discussion? Oh. I know. Untouchable. Such a name guarantees we won’t be overheard. I’ll reimburse you for your constant traveling. Maybe even throw in some takeout sushi.”

“I just hear bribes,” Yusuke sighed. “The only reason I’m agreeing to this is because I know Ryuji would never be able to concoct a lie as extraordinary as saying he was in another world.”

“O-oi…” Ryuji leveled a hooded glare at the art student’s profile. “Your faith in my abilities are astounding.” The look Yusuke gave the glaring blond was blatant love masked as tolerated fondness.

Akira hid his grin behind his hand, glad that the glasses helped to obscure his eyes as well. He wanted them both, and wanted to be needed by them. Only then would he feel complete. He buried his true emotions behind a plastic smile and lowered his hand from his face. “I’m not bribing you. We can get burgers from Big Bang since it’s not too far from the shop. I just want you to feel comfortable.”

“We were comfortable before you forced your way into our lives,” Ryuji snapped.

The fire burning in his eyes was always Akira’s undoing; the real reason he teased the boy relentlessly. “You were just barely surviving,” the brunet sighed, waving a hand. “If you’re not hungry, that’s fine. We have a long train ride for you to decide.” With one last smile, Akira put a little bounce in his step as he turned his back on them and headed for the distant station.

“I just wanna… strangle him, or something!”

Yusuke patted the blond crown. He didn’t  _know_  Kurusu the same length of time Ryuji did, and their first meeting was not as hostile, so he felt frustration rather than anger. Was the strange boy leading them on? Had he hypnotized Ryuji into believing this other world exists? What were his intentions, other than breaking them free from society’s chains? Yusuke unconsciously raised his hand, rubbing his chest. He blinked, slowly, feeling a dull ache there. “You punched me?”

“You were lost in your head.” Ryuji shrugged. “I couldn’t kiss you. Besides, he’s almost out of sight.”

Yusuke had grown used to taking Ryuji’s wrist and did so to tug him along. Ryuji stared at the back of Yusuke’s head as they rushed to catch up with Akira. What would their lives become if they gave in and believed Kurusu’s bullshit? That power he showed in the other world—would Ryuji develop it? With power, he could face Kamoshida once and for all without fear of death or incarceration. Ryuji yanked his wrist out of Yusuke’s lax hold and snatched his hand instead.

Yusuke stared in surprise. The surprise turned to concern when Ryuji started running. “Your le—”

The grin the blond flashed at him silenced his protests and he lengthened his strides until they were running side by side for the train station, hands still together.

Akira waited for them just beyond the gates. He watched them approach, flushed and breathless, and decided he would destroy anything that stood in the way of their happiness.

 _Even if it’s you?_  

Akira grinned at the smooth voice in his head.  _‘They’ll have to do that on their own, Arsene. Only then will I back off_.’

**xxx**

Akira paid for their lunch at Big Bang and they took the takeout with them to the back alley of Shibuya’s central street. He ate his while on the move, tossing the empty containers in a nearby receptacle. Akira threw open the door to Untouchable, the bell ringing loudly to announce his arrival. “Mune-chan! Did you miss me?”

Ryuji choked on air, almost dropping his bag at the unexpected outburst.

The rugged man seated behind the counter flipped the page of his magazine. “If you break anything in the back, you’ll pay with your hide.”

“Love you, too, Mune-chan!” Akira waved his arm at the shell-shocked teens, beckoning them to join him behind the counter.

Yusuke glanced at the shop owner, but Iwai Munehisa paid them no mind, so Yusuke cautiously tugged Ryuji along with him. They inched around the corner of the counter, trying their best not to touch anything.

“Wait.”

They froze in place, Ryuji trembling against Yusuke’s back.

Iwai lowered the magazine and lifted his head, eyes roaming over the boys in contemplation. “He doesn’t bring anyone here. Can you guys travel to the other world like he does?”

Akira poked his head out of the back room, the downturn of his lips telling them he was displeased by having his lifestyle placed on display. “Mune-chan, you talk about unnecessary stuff. Shouldn’t you be more concerned about your brothers trying to find you again?”

Iwai exhaled deeply and returned to his magazine. “You’re having dinner with me and Kaoru tonight,” he mumbled, kicking his feet up onto the counter.

Akira’s expression morphed into fond exasperation. “I’ll go to the gym to work off my Big Bang then.”

Ryuji perked up, but then realized they didn’t trust Akira. He would have liked a gym buddy.

The back room was cluttered, but there was enough room for everyone to sit comfortably. Ryuji ate out of his bag, his cup on the floor beside his chair. Yusuke carefully laid everything out into his lap. Akira tried not to watch them and settled on shuffling a few things around to keep himself preoccupied.

“You’re wasting time,” Yusuke pointed out. “It would not be the best etiquette to eat and talk, but you’ve already finished your meal. We’ll just listen.”

“Yeah, dude.” Ryuji’s mouth was already full of food, etiquette be damned. “Explain this shit again.”

Akira smirked, turning his chair backwards to straddle it. “Very well then. Do you want the long version? It begins with my run-in with my first victim. Or would you like the abridged version?”

Ryuji’s burger halted inches from his mouth. Yusuke pushed his fries around in the box. “Does your victim have anything to do with the cognitive world?” he asked softly.

Akira rocked forward, his chair on two legs for several moments, before setting it back onto the floor. “I’m not sure. He died on the way to the hospital.” His gray eyes darkened, turning almost black behind the lenses of his glasses. “He was a politician. I actually think he was a cabinet minister when the accident happened. So, yeah, he was sort of a big deal.”

Ryuji set the remainder of his sandwich down, the last bite of it sitting heavy in his stomach. He was struck speechless at such an enormous reveal.

Akira’s smile was a broken excuse of what it could be. “Yeah. I killed an important adult of the government. I pushed him away from a woman he was assaulting and he fell, hitting his head on a guard rail. The woman I protected called an ambulance, but he died en route.” Akira removed his glasses, his hand replacing them. Remembering that day and the dark days that followed was always a struggle. They drugged him to find out the truth, and he never did recover from it.

“My parents disowned me as payment for keeping the entire thing under wraps. They covered his death up with a hit and run excuse and I was banished… here. Sorry. That has nothing to do with the cognitive world.” Akira laughed, the sound muffled by his hand. “Arsene—the name of my gentleman Persona. He came to me after their drugs stopped working. At that point, they attempted to beat the lies out of me in interrogation. I can’t remember that night too well, but I know he offered me a second chance.” Akira dragged his hand up his face, combing his fingers through his hair. “I sound ridiculous, don’t I?”

“Yes,” Yusuke admitted without hesitation. He’d lost his appetite and returned his meal to its original package, which now sat at his feet. To hear that adults—law enforcement—had implemented such underhanded methods upon a minor was sickening. It sounded like Kurusu had almost died while in their custody. How would they have written that off? Suicide? “I’ll only believe your story if you describe this Persona in detail. Ryuji will confirm it for me.”

Akira did as was asked of him. From Arsene’s top hat to his bladed heels. The blood red of his outfit, and his enormous wingspan.

“Yeah,” Ryuji muttered. He would never forget it. Kurusu had crushed the weird black and white mask and there was an explosion of power that freed him Kamoshida’s clutches. A demonic angel, if such a thing were possible.

Yusuke sighed deeply and crossed one leg over the other, folding his arms across his chest. “What can you tell us about this cognitive world? Other than the fact that you can summon an ethereal being to help you fight your battles.”

Akira sat up straighter in the chair, slipping his glasses back onto his face. They weren’t leaving. Did they believe him? He cleared his throat and plastered a grin on his face. “It’s been trial and error for a while now, so I can only tell you what I’ve learned.”

**xxx**

Iwai saw the couple to the door with the excuse of flipping the sign to Closed. "Hey. Wait."

Ryuji, who was farthest ahead, stopped to look back at the shop owner. He still looked dangerous in his eyes, but they were still alive, so he counted that as a plus.

Iwai rubbed at his neck, fingers pressing against the gecko tattoo. "He sees something in you kids. Stupid brat would show up every other day, asking me for my best model guns. If they weren't fake, I would've been concerned. But then he helped me work through some bad shit I had in my life, and I kind of found out on my own about his freaky powers. Basically, what I'm yammering on about—don't judge a book by its cover."

"Not to be rude, but I don't believe I need your advice on something I've never done before in my life. Perfect example." Yusuke used his free hand to indicate at an unsuspecting Ryuji. "My partner."

Ryuji's mouth fell open. He found his voice, only to growl, "Soon to be your _ex_ , in every sense of the word."

"He's smarter than his looks make him out to be," Yusuke finished with a flourish aimed in the blond's direction.

Iwai looked between the couple. His laugh started out as a soft chuckle before blossoming into something hearty that left him breathless. "You're perfect for him. Take it easy, kids, and stay out of trouble." Iwai disappeared into Untouchable, closing the door. A few moments later, the sound of the deadbolt sliding into place could be heard.

Yusuke stepped away from the door, moving to the waiting Ryuji's side, and they both started walking. "Should I not have talked back to the yakuza member?" he murmured after a few steps.

"Probably not a good idea," Ryuji replied, his voice filled with trepidation.

Yusuke pressed his lips to Ryuji's forehead before they made it around the corner for Central Street. "Just in case I never see you again."

"Don't joke!" Ryuji kneed the taller teen in the back, though it only caused Yusuke to stumble, and stormed past him.

Yusuke righted himself, smoothing a hand down his back, and just like that, his thoughts were back in Untouchable. There was no telling who would die first. Kurusu said they both had the ability to use these so-called Personas, but to unleash them called for dire situations; where all other options are exhausted, and you realize no one is there for you other than you. Yusuke’s gaze swept from Ryuji’s back, down to his calves. That gait was deliberate. Yusuke saw the scar almost every week. Ryuji tried to hide his limp.

Yusuke was startled from his thoughts when a hand was suddenly thrust at him. Ryuji had different glares, or maybe only Yusuke could tell them apart. Even with just the blond's profile visible to him, he knew Ryuji was oozing 'I'll protect you' pheromones. Yusuke accepted his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze to tell him that he would do the same, and allowed himself to be pulled along.

* * *

Ryuji still hesitated with going back to that other world. Kurusu warned them that Kamoshida's "Palace" needed to be destroyed. He said he'd be going every day until it fell. Now that he knew what to look for, Ryuji could see the lines of exhaustion creeping onto the transfer student's face, hidden when he forced himself to smile or laugh.

Mishima unknowingly helped kick Ryuji’s ass into action one Saturday. He timidly approached the blond’s desk in the corner, phone hugged against his chest. His eyes were bright, but with something akin to revulsion or shock, not excitement. Ryuji dropped his left leg back onto the floor and leaned forward after the phone was placed onto his desk. Mishima hit play and a shaky video began.

It showed nothing but sky, and then the tops of buildings. A young girl in a very familiar uniform came into focus, standing at the edge of one of those buildings. Her long hair, pulled back into a ponytail, floated in the wind. It happened in slow motion. The background voices grew panicked—some excited, as she tipped forward and off the edge. There was a scream of " _Shiho_ ", and the camera finally found the girl on the ground below, body twisted and unmoving. It cut out suddenly and the screen went blank before offering suggestions for the next video to watch.

Ryuji could hear his blood pounding in his ears. Kamoshida. This had Kamoshida written all over it. No one at a prestigious school like Shujin would ever think about committing suicide. Mishima's voice pulled him from his dark thoughts.

"Her name was—" He cleared his throat, fingers trembling as he picked up his phone, "Her name is Suzui Shiho. She was on the girls’ volleyball team. When he was frustrated in a way... that beating me couldn't change, Kamoshida asked me to get Shiho. I never thought..." The phone pinged softly and Mishima checked the new news forwarded to him. "She's in ICU..."

Ryuji's chair scraped along the floor, his hand slamming down onto the surface of his desk, and Mishima took a few cautious steps away from the isolated desk. "Perverted piece of shit..." he growled, nails digging into the wood. His leg, this girl's suicide attempt—how many more would have to suffer under the tyranny of King Kamoshida? His eyes automatically sought Kurusu's, and the brunet nodded imperceptibly, but Ryuji still caught it. They were going back to the other world, together, to put an end to Kamoshida.

Ryuji flopped back into his chair, hands covering his face. "Mishima," he groaned.

"Y-yes...?" The timid brunet stared at the top of the golden crown. "Sorry... and thanks."

Mishima was elated, but also worried. Why would Sakamoto apologize or even thank him? Did he plan to do something about Kamoshida?

"Sakamo—"

A hand landed on his shoulder and Mishima could feel his small lunch of yakisoba bread attempt to make a reappearance.

"Mishima, right?" Akira smiled sweetly. "Go buy me something to drink."

Ryuji lifted his head, glaring over the tops of his fingers. "Don't bully him."

"I-It's fine," Mishima stammered, waving his hands. "I'll just... I'll go, get us all something to drink." He inched out from under Kurusu's hand before bolting from the classroom.

Ryuji scoffed and settled for staring at the faint scrapes in the wooden surface of his desk. "Piss off. If we suddenly start being the best of friends, we might both get arrested."

Akira ignored him, staring at the door Mishima disappeared through. "To think you had someone so useful here all this time."

"Shut up, get some actual sleep, and tomorrow, we'll take care of Kamoshida."

Akira smirked. "Good to know you can make plans all on your own. Even one as simple as that."

Ryuji pounded a fist into his desk, brown eyes narrowed sharply as they focused on the brunet. "Get the hell away from me!"

Akira's smile widened and he executed an elegant bow. When he straightened up, it was to walk back to his desk.

Mishima stumbled back into the classroom and almost choked on the tension. Sakamoto glared swords at the back of Kurusu's head, who idly flipped the pages of his book, unaware of the danger looming behind him. He delivered Kurusu's drink first and received a smile that sent chills down his spine. He placed Sakamoto's drink on his desk next and got a growl for his efforts. Mishima sank into his seat, pressing the cool can against his forehead, and startled even himself when he began laughing. Beneath his fear, he felt a budding excitement being in the same class as the worst delinquents of the school.

 **xxx**  

Ryuji donned a hooded jacket, necessary now to hide his blond hair from curious bystanders. Yusuke wore a thin sweater, covered by a beige jacket that flared at his hips. Ryuji wanted to peel him out of his pants. Along with Kurusu's simple V-neck white top, covered by a black blazer, and dark denim jeans, the two of them stood out the least. What was bound to attract attention was the fact that all three were huddled together in the vending machine alcove.

"We look like we're plotting a murder," Ryuji groaned, slapping a hand against his face.

"We might be," Kurusu hummed.

"Not helping!"

"What about the alley?" Yusuke suggested, pointing across the street.

"Yeah. Because it won't look so damn weird when three dudes walk into an alley!"

Yusuke lifted his shoulders in an innocent shrug. "We can go at different times?"

"Nah. It's alright. I know this side of town." Ryuji was already walking away. "You two go, try not to get caught, and I'll meet you there."

**-**

Ryuji made his reappearance with quiet steps and a slap to Yusuke's backside. Akira had never seen the art student blush so red before, and filed the memory away for later use. It was a good look on him. He shook his head and reminded himself they had a mission. Akira pulled his phone from his pocket, meeting the other’s eyes. “Ready?”

When the trio walked out of the alley, a towering castle stood where the school once was.

Yusuke looked from the castle to Kurusu, doing a double take at the sudden change in outfit. “Wha…?”

“Yeah. He’s into some kinky shit. Also, his name is Joker.” Ryuji rudely brushed past the masked figure. “We’re here to beat the shit of Kamoshida and break his effin’ heart.” He remembered it, despite being under the duress of pain. He remembered the broken grate where they climbed out of the Palace.

“Change,” Joker corrected, adjusting his crimson gloves. He brought up the rear of the group, Yusuke just a few feet ahead of him. Unlike Ryuji, who was almost to the building. In truth, he was lying to them, and to himself. He would indeed like to break this Kamoshida’s heart. He hurt his favorite toy.

“ _Hurry up_!” Ryuji shouted from across the way.

“This is supposed to be an espionage mission,” Joker sighed, placing a guiding hand to the small of Yusuke’s back. They took off in a light jog to join the impatient blond.

“No shame,” Ryuji muttered, toeing at the carpet below his feet once they were inside. Kamoshida had no shame, creating a place like this in his head; waltzing around in a robe and pink-fucking-briefs. Considering what the man did to his students, Ryuji wasn’t surprised. This was Joker’s territory, however, so Ryuji held back with Yusuke and watched the mask teen kick ass.

Despite all their sneaking around, it was a simple accident that put them right into Kamoshida’s path. They were leaving the self-proclaimed training hall—a torture dungeon, really—when they wandered through the main hall, only to get their exit barred by a handful of armored soldiers, and the King himself. Yusuke managed to sneak away to the upper level unnoticed. He sank into a crouch behind the handrail, peeking through the baluster.

Joker tried his best, but he was just still one being. Arsene, and the few other Shadows he talked into joining him, were only as strong as he was. And this golden “soldier” was obviously stronger than them all. Had he failed? His plan had been to triumph and prove to the others that he was worthy or their time and attention. Joker coughed, the sound wet, and found humor in the fact that he couldn’t see his own blood on the gaudy red rug.

Ryuji sank to his knees, saving their enemy the trouble of having to force him there before they executed him. He never thought Joker would get beat down. He’d fought so many of those strange creatures as they made their way through the Palace, always emerging victorious. What was different now? Was Kamoshida  _that_  strong?  _No_. He shook his head. Kamoshida wasn’t strong. His lackeys were. Ryuji lifted his head, eyes narrowing at the armored foot pressing Joker into the carpeted floor. This one was different from the others. Stronger. He didn’t like the weird teen, but he didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by Kamoshida. No one did. Joker wasn’t useless scum.

“I… am not  _trash_!” Ryuji’s body stiffened, eyes bulging as his body was wracked by a different kind of pain.

Yusuke, who watched from the safety of the balcony, clutched at the baluster bars so tightly, his nails began bleeding at their edges when they couldn’t put a dent in the marble. He wanted to help, but if he died here as well, who would go back to the real world and speak of their escapades? He would get imprisoned—locked away for spouting nonsense about a second world, but that was fine. If Ryuji wasn’t with him, there was no need to keep living.

Ryuji writhed across the carpeted floor, hands clutching his head as he howled in pain. There was a voice! Power—yes! 

 _Since your name has been disgraced already, why not hoist the flag and wreak havoc…_?

Saliva trailed down his chin, dripping onto the floor as he struggled to get his breath. He could no longer find a voice to scream; just garbled noises tumbled from his mouth. Ryuji’s fingers dug into his skull, but the pain never subsided, and he curled in on himself, only to lash out, his legs kicking feebly at the air.

 _I am thou, thou art I… There is no turning back_!

Ryuji couldn’t see it, but Yusuke couldn’t look away. Ryuji’s eyes shone yellow. A burst of blue flames washed over his face and Yusuke almost jumped down to the ground floor to put them, but the fire dispersed and those gleaming yellow eyes glared out from behind a half-skull mask. It was graphic and bloody, but Yusuke saw art in the way the crimson droplets flew as Ryuji ripped the mask from his face with a scream. An explosion of light as he brought forth a power from within. He was free of society’s shackles.

Yusuke inhaled sharply at the wide-eyed look of uninhibited pleasure on Ryuji’s face, his Persona hovering behind him. “…Captain Kidd,” he whispered, repeating after Ryuji. 


	3. Chapter 3

Ryuji flailed, struggling to free himself from his own bed sheets. When he finally managed to recognize the familiar surroundings of his room, he collapsed back onto the bed and covered his face with both arms. Had it all been a dream? A hallucination brought on by Kurusu’s trickster ways? Ryuji let his arms fall away and squinted at the various surfaces in his room in search of his phone. He found it on the floor beside his bed, which meant he’d fallen asleep with it.

The first thing Ryuji noticed when he unlocked his phone was the mysterious app, which clarified that last night had _not_ been a dream. “Captain… Kidd.” He fell back onto his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling as he recalled the surge of power he felt after awakening his _Persona_. Ryuji rolled over, burying his face into his pillow to muffle his laughter. He didn’t need his mother to check on him when he didn’t have a reason for why he was going crazy.

After that fit passed, Ryuji pushed himself up into a seated position, sitting cross-legged, and gave his phone his full attention. There were three new texts—two from Yusuke and one from an unknown number. He opened Yusuke’s first.

_I’m sorry to disturb you so early, but I woke up feeling like yesterday was a dream.  
Was it? A dream? You have a Persona. _

Ryuji grinned at his phone. “I have a Persona,” he whispered with restrained glee. He moved onto the next message which was short and concise.

 _I gave Kurusu your number, as well as mine. Please. Let me know you’re okay_.

Ryuji checked the time on his phone and was genuinely surprised to find that he’d woken up at the usual time. Maybe he wasn’t as tired as he thought. He put the mobile down and climbed out of bed to get his day started.

**-**

It was on his way to school that Ryuji remembered he never responded to Yusuke, and he never checked the other text. Once he was on board the train, back pressed against the closed door, he whipped out his phone to rectify that mistake. _Sorry, sorry! You’re probably freaking out in class. I’m okay. I’m heading to school right now_. With that out of the way, he opened the other message.

 _Kurusu Akira here, invading your phone.  
Kitagawa gave me your number. We can talk after school, if you’d like_.

Ryuji frowned and decided to be just as much of a jerk as Kurusu had. _Who says I’m coming to school_?

_Maybe because we’re on the same train?_

Ryuji’s head snapped back and forth, looking for the familiar mess of curly black hair. His phone vibrated again in his hand.

_You’re going to break your neck. I got a seat, but I can still see you._

Ryuji growled low in his throat, fingers moving heatedly across the screen. _How many times do I hafta call you a stalker before it sticks?!_ There was no indication that Kurusu was going to respond, even the though the text had already been seen. With a defeated groan, Ryuji shoved his phone in his pocket and let his head fall against the door at his back. The rest of the ride was uneventful—no response yet from Yusuke nor Kurusu, not that the latter mattered.

Ryuji exited the train like everyone else, readjusting his school case to wear as a backpack, even though it wasn’t its intended purpose. He’d almost forgotten about his stalker until he felt a familiar sense of dread. Ryuji looked to his right to see the brunet walked the street with him at a respectable distance. After being caught, Kurusu simply smiled, but made no motion to get closer. Ryuji groaned and crossed the street to join him.

“Are you sure you want to be seen with me?” Kurusu questioned. “Wouldn’t want to get arrested, would you?”

“Don’t care,” Ryuji muttered. “It seems like we’ll be seeing each other a lot. So…” He shrugged his shoulders, looking down at the ground. “You can call me ‘Ryuji’ if you want to.”

Akira adjusted his glasses with a nod. “Okay.” He stayed silent for several moments before speaking again. “Would you like to go see Kamoshida?” Akira took a few more steps before finally stopping to check on the other teen that had fallen behind. “I’m not being a jerk like last time. Even though I had an ulterior motive then.” Akira’s eyes brightened in realization behind his glasses. “Never mind. We have Mishima. He’s _very_ useful.”

“I already told you not to bully him,” Ryuji grumbled, kicking at a stray pebble as he joined Akira.

“But it’s fun to watch him squirm.”

“Pervert.”

They were back to normal.

-

Mishima missed homeroom, but Akira could correctly guess why. He slipped into class from the back door and Akira tapped at his chest before pointing. Mishima looked down and he hurriedly shed the Shujin blazer, rolling it over his arm as he made his way up the row to his desk. Akira propped his head up with his hand, a devious smile tugging at his lips. Things were going according to plan.  

Ryuji kicked Akira’s chair at lunchtime and a collective gasp spread through the classroom. “Lunch,” the blond mumbled, ignoring everyone.

Akira smiled, his hands folded demurely atop his desk. “Yes, it is lunchtime. Are you going to buy me something?”

Ryuji’s glare hardened and he kicked the chair again before walking out. When he returned, he dropped a canned beverage and a wrapped bread onto Akira’s desk before moving to his own and grabbing the chair. He dragged it back to Akira’s desk, nodding Mishima in their direction. The dark-haired teen joined them, his phone in his hand. He laid it down on the desk and everyone leaned in to view it.

Ryuji’s can crunched as he reflexively crushed it in his grip. He tore his attention from the Shuujin outfits and murmuring students to the bulletin boards the video zoomed in on. Any available surface space was littered with a red sheet of paper; a logo decorated the top of the sheet and looked suspiciously like Arsene. A ransom note—that was the font used, Ryuji assumed. He couldn’t believe Akira sat and cut out each letter to meticulously paste it. Scratch that. Akira probably did do that.

Once there was a perfect close-up of the note, Mishima paused the video. Ryuji was the one that read it out loud. “Sir Kamoshida Suguru, the utter bastard of lust.” A slow grin crept across his face. “We know how shitty you are, and that you put your twisted desires on students that can’t fight back. That’s why we have decided to steal away those desires and make you confess your sins. We hope you will be ready.” He fell back into his seat with a cackle, almost spilling the last of his drink on himself.

Mishima smiled sheepishly. “I… don’t really talk with anyone else, and I thought you two would be interested in this.”

Ryuji snapped to attention at the tinny sound of Kamoshida’s shout. Mishima fumbled for his phone, but Akira’s hands covered his, pinning them to the desk. Ryuji stared back at the frustrated face that stared up at him. With all his scapegoats gone, Kamoshida had no one to blame but himself. Ryuji’s grin was downright sadistic. Akira released Mishima, who slowly reached for his phone. He closed the video app, suddenly nervous with his current station, and excused himself back to his desk.

Today was going to be an amazing victory.

**xxx**

Even with just the three of them, they managed to defeat the King. Yusuke joined them in the alley with rushed and breathless apologies. Ryuji silenced him with a kiss. _“You have a life, Yusuke,” he whispered against parted lips. “You being here gives me even more strength than Captain Kidd.”_ Akira called them disgusting, dubbed Ryuji as “Skull”, and led the way into the perverted castle.

Yusuke’s stealth was useful when they finally faced off against Kamoshida himself. Joker gave him a model gun, courtesy of Iwai, and told him to hide on the balcony and wait for his signal.

The image of Takamaki Ann being slurped down the giant Shadow’s mouth was something Skull didn’t need haunting his memories. Joker reminded him that was how Kamoshida viewed her, but the likeness was too uncanny for Skull not to be freaked out.

Joker gave Yusuke the signal while Kamoshida rambled on about being innocent, and a perfectly aimed shot knocked the crown—the Treasure—from Kamoshida’s head. From there, it was a piece of cake for Skull and Joker to destroy the pathetic shell of a man. Knowing the Palace would collapse once the Treasure was gone, Joker mapped out the quickest exit prior to their final battle.

Ryuji blamed his actions on the adrenaline coursing through his body once they were back in the real world. Back in the alley where they’d started, Ryuji had Akira pinned to the alley wall, his leg forced between the other’s thighs. The bespectacled teen let out a throaty laugh and ground down on the imposing appendage.

“Disgusting.”

“No more than you.” Akira smiled, the fingers of his right hand toying with the hair at Ryuji’s nape while his left beckoned Yusuke closer. “Your turn next,” he told the taller teen. “We’ll go after Madarame and you’ll both be free.”

“What do you get out of this?” Yusuke questioned, moving closer.

Akira’s left hand cupped Yusuke’s jaw, thumb ghosting over his lips. Ryuji reminded him of his place with a sharp, upward thrust of his thigh and he moaned through it. “I get you. Both of you. If you’ll have me.”

Yusuke glanced at Ryuji before focusing on the flushed teen. He lifted his hand, placing it against Akira’s, and leaned into the touch. Ryuji’s claim was more visceral. He attacked the pale neck presented to him, biting down hard before sucking a second bruise into the skin.

He was finally accepted. The thought alone was enough to send him spiraling out of control. Akira shuddered against the wall, head thrown back as he came untouched. The front of his trousers darkened with a stain. His companions were the only things keeping him from meeting the ground, his body twitching from the aftershocks of his solo enjoyment.

Ryuji lapped at the wound and held the arm around his shoulder in place. He pulled his leg away and supported the limp body that sagged against him. Yusuke mirrored his actions on the left and they carefully made their way out of the alley. From there, they carried Akira back to the train station.

Akira was coherent enough to mumble his address and Ryuji was surprised to find he didn’t live too far away. “I’ll take it from here, babe. I don’t want you going out of your way.”

Yusuke curled his fingers into the material of his school pants to keep himself from reaching out to drag Ryuji against him. Akira acted as a wonderful barrier. “Stay out of trouble,” Yusuke whispered.

Ryuji gave him a lopsided grin. “I always do.” With a chuckle, Yusuke bid them farewell.

Ryuji’s smile diminished as he was left with the deadweight of a perverted teen. “You watched me, didn’t you?” he scoffed, glancing at the distracted attendant before tapping his pass and dragging Akira through the gate with him. “You knew who I was the minute you walked into that classroom. You were probably so excited, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Akira whispered, swaying away from Ryuji as he tried to support his own weight.

“Keep still, dumbass. You’re already wearing the uniform of the shittiest school in the district. They’ll think you’re an underage drunk.” Ryuji exhaled deeply. “They probably already think that. Train’s coming, pervert.”

Akira smiled against Ryuji’s shoulder, his neck throbbing from being marked. “Wouldn’t you say I’m  _your_  pervert?”

“Never.” Ryuji pushed him forward after the doors opened and Akira stumbled in with the crowd, the blond following close behind. Even though they were forced to stand, bodies pressed close together, the train ride was uneventful. When they disembarked at their designated station, Akira had composed himself enough to walk on his own. He moved with confidence, seemingly undisturbed by the mess coating his underwear.

They walked the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya, turning left at the supermarket. Ryuji slowed to a stop, the old theater behind him, and stared up the stairs that led to clinic where he’d been treated. He shifted his stance, putting most of the weight on his left leg. Should he go in and say hello? Almost a year had passed since the incident.

“Do you want to visit Tae?” Akira’s voice cut into his thoughts. “I believe she’s still there.”

Ryuji gritted his teeth. Despite everything they’d just been through, the other teen still pissed him off. “Of course you know Takemi. You perverted stalker.”

Akira smiled sweetly. “Call me what you want. I’m happy now. I hope I can do the same for you and Yusuke.”

Ryuji scoffed and turned away from the building. “Let’s get you to your place and out of those nasty clothes before you get stuck in your underwear permanently.” Akira’s laugh floated back to him as Ryuji followed along.

Akira lived on the third floor of a complex, the window of his living area facing the town down below. Standing in front of the glass double doors, Ryuji could see the lights from the old theater and market as clear as if he stood right in front of them. “Did you spy on me from here?”

Akira’s voice came from somewhere behind him. “No. Officially I moved here in April, but my parents sent me to the clinic last year to find evidence to use _against_ Takemi. They claimed she was making black-market drugs. I endured being her guinea pig so I could record each of her sessions. In the end, I destroyed my evidence. The reason why… was when you and your mother came in. Takemi chased me out of the back room and I sat at the window out front during your entire procedure, redirecting customers and making new appointments. You were probably too drugged to remember me when you left.”

Just remembering that day brought on a weariness Ryuji hoped to forget. Hearing that Akira had seen him at his lowest didn’t help. Takemi had gone out of her way to make her small office space into an operating room just for him. He would visit her this Sunday, if just to thank her.

“You and I remember that day differently.”

“Shut up,” Ryuji growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“I will never forget that day. I could tell you were in pain, but you didn’t want your mom to see. You probably didn’t want _anyone_ to see. You… were so beautiful—so strong.”

Turning away from the curtained doors, he found Akira standing in the middle of the room, naked as the day he was born. Even his glasses were missing. Ryuji’s eyes were drawn to the bite mark and darkening bruise of his neck and he felt a twisted sense of pride to know he left it there.

“Thank you, Ryu—Sakamoto, for today.” Akira shifted, his hand rising to tug at the dark curls covering his forehead.

Ryuji briefly wondered if the unbreakable Kurusu had a nervous habit, but the thought was easily pushed aside. Instead, he wondered if this was how Yusuke felt whenever he looked at a blank canvas. Akira’s naked body was begging to be spoiled. He would leave bruising fingerprints and more hickeys—all in places only he and Yusuke would be able to see. "I was scared for nothing,” he began, taking slow steps toward the middle of the room. Akira blinked in confusion. “You want to be owned, don’t you?”

Oh. The brunet smiled, the gesture coy, and dropped his arm to plant his hands on his hips. “It depends on who’s looking for the job of being my owner. I will admit, I didn’t know what I was feeling when I started out, so I gave in to the childish habit of teasing the object of my affection. You’re perfect, Ryuji. Unfortunately, I’m not apologizing for anything.” Akira jutted his hips out with a cocky grin.

Ryuji fisted his hands at his sides, forcing himself to take a step back before he acted on the dark desires swirling inside him. “Disgusting.” He was talking about himself now. Did he felt the same way about Akira? When had those feelings developed? The anger he directed at the transfer student could easily be redirected at himself. Ryuji had betrayed his thoughts of Yusuke and their relationship with a stranger. He shook his head in hopes of banishing his confusion. Did Akira like Yusuke as well? They all needed to sit down and have a talk, about  _everything_.

Unfortunately, it was time for Ryuji to say his goodbyes. A kiss was far more intimate than the mark he’d left on Akira’s neck. Yusuke had also been there to witness it and raised no argument. With that in mind, Ryuji told himself he could still tease the bastard for all the emotional trauma he’d caused. Closing the distance between them, he bypassed Akira and continued towards the front of the apartment. His right hand lingered behind him, fingers dragging across the bare skin of the brunet’s abdomen.

Akira shuddered under the fleeting touch, desperate to chase after it. He kept himself rooted in place, eyes following the blond.

Ryuji opened the door and placed one foot over the threshold before stopping. He took a moment to grin toothily over his shoulder. The outside lights filtering into the apartment were reflected in his eyes, making them glow an unnatural yellow. “I’ll see you in school. _Joker_.”

The door closed on Akira’s whimper.


	4. Notes and Headcanons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I moved the "[Notes and Headcanons](http://taintedkibou.tumblr.com/post/164067307249/head-notes-sneak-preview)" to my tumblr; it looked messy here.  
> Instead~ I leave you with this snippet I wrote, but may never use. 
> 
> It's ya boi!

Akechi Goro felt a weightlessness about him that hadn’t been there before, even with his new knowledge weighing heavily at the back of his mind. Sae placed a hand to his shoulder and he forced himself not to lean into her. Too long since he’d had such a comforting touch. 

“I’ll take you out for sushi this evening,” the prosecutor told him, guiding her hand to his opposite shoulder to give it a squeeze. This was a side of Niijima Sae Goro had never seen. It was intriguing, but still pleasant. He wouldn’t mind if they spent more time together, which he hoped they would be. 

“Oi.“ 

Both Sae and Goro’s attention was drawn to the white-tailed, white-pawed black cat that brushed against Goro’s ankle and weaved its way between his feet. 

Sae hummed softly. "A black cat at a funeral. Cliche, if not a little worrying." 

"He’s mine,” Akechi chuckled. “I guess he got lonely waiting." 

"I did,” the cat scoffed. Only Goro heard the spoken words. 

Sae heard an annoyed snuff. “Seems like it.” She smiled, giving Akechi’s shoulder a squeeze before releasing it. “I think my purse might be able to fit him. Let’s sneak him into Ginza." 

"I like her! Yes, please! I’d love to go with you for sushi!" 

The cat changed its trajectory and headed for Niijima, but Goro bent and scooped him up. "Shh,” he whispered. “Morgana. We’re paying our respects." 

Morgana scoffed and settled into the teen’s arms. The cat knew for a fact that Goro’s respect for Shido had been miniscule, if not nonexistent. The only reason they attended the service was because Sae herself invited Goro. 

Morgana fought to free himself from the cradling arms and jumped up onto Akechi’s shoulders. He pressed his front paws to the back of his head, staring out at the sea of people. The teen chuckled, allowing himself to be used as a pedestal for the cat. He hoped the gossip that would be born from the pictures would all be good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody actually likes it, raise your hand, and I might add backstories and future stories, and other ditties~


End file.
